


Reboot (8) - Sister Hannah

by Prisca



Series: Reboot-Universe [8]
Category: Jeremiah (TV), The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, Reboot-Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisca/pseuds/Prisca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the downfall of the old world and the beginning of a new one.</p><p>Casey has managed it to kill the alien queen, but her death caused a virus which killed almost every adult within some weeks.<br/>Now Casey and Zeke are on the road to find a mysterious place name</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reboot (8) - Sister Hannah

**Author's Note:**

> This will not be a WIP with who-knows-how-much chapters but a universe I want to play with. There will be a central theme running trough all the stories, but mostly there will be stand-alone chapter. It takes place in a world after the Big Death (Jeremiah) but it will mainly tell the story of Casey & Zeke (The Faculty). You don't need to know anything about Jeremiah or The Faculty to read these stories, but if you do some elements will be quite familiar for you. Not movie-conform!

Slowly Zeke sneaked nearer to the old factory building. It seemed to be safe, he had scanned the surroundings thoroughly but couldn't discover a guard. Through the broken window he could hear voices, laughing, talking, some people seemed to be in the great hall. He just hoped it weren't more than four or five of them, he had promised Casey to be careful and to come back when the group of Skinheads turned out to be too large.

Usually they tried to stay out of their way, a lot of people build gangs nowadays and the Skinheads were one of the worst. They weren't looking for a place where they could stay but dashed around the country in small groups and took what they wanted, often enough with brutal force. To deal with them was a much too high risk.

But this time Zeke saw it as their last option to get the needed distributor for the Chevrolet. Already twice he had been able to repair it provisional but now there was no chance anymore to get it up and running again. He needed some spare parts. But they were stranded in the middle of the nowhere in the wild mountains of Oregon. No one around but the Skinheads they had seen yesterday.

“They have cars,” Zeke had told Casey.  
“I'm sure they will have spare parts too. The only chance we have, or we will have to give up the Chevrolet and move on by foot.”

Actually not an option. Nevertheless, it had been a though job to convince Casey. He had insisted on coming with him but no way that he would put him into this danger. At the end he had left him behind with the Chevrolet, only a few miles away from the factory building.

“Don't you dare it not to come back,” Casey had told him while fighting back his tears.  
“I will kill you when you do.”

Zeke had smiled because of this contrariness and pulled him into his arms.  
“I promise.”

Then he was on the way only with a small backpack. He had thought about it to take his gun along but finally decided against it. Even if it was only a small group, it was him against all of them and it would be better not to appear as a threat. He needed to convince them that all he wanted was to do some countertrade, an interesting deal for them. Usual goods like sugar, milk powder or batteries wouldn't quicken their interest, but he still had two bottles of Whiskey. Jim Beam, good stuff from the old world, almost impossible to find in these days. And if this was not enough …

Zeke thought of the ten pens of Scat he did hide under his jacket. His homemade drugs with a stunning effect. Back at Highschool it had been a money-spinner. Not that he did need the money he made with his dealings, the monthly check was the only thing he could count on when it came to parental care. But it was fun to watch these dumbheads spending all their money right down to the last penny for a 'drug' whose ingredients one could easily buy at every drugstore.

But these times were long gone. Mary Beth had changed all. Not only that many of his customers didn't survive the next few weeks or just got swallowed up by the chaos prevailing after the alien invasion. It had been his Scat which finally beat the alien queen. Casey had rammed a pen right into her eye and only a moment later she started to dissolve.

It turned out quickly that her death wasn't the salvation for the mankind because it unleashed the virus. Only slowly Zeke had started to realize it that possibly the future of the world was lying in his hands. For the moment the Big Death seemed to have reached the end, most of the adults were dead. But Zeke was smart, he knew that it was possible that the virus just had decided to take some rest, that it could mutate and then come back again. To take the rest of them.

His Scat might be the solution. Sometimes at night, when Casey was sleeping beside him, he got absorbed in his thoughts. When the drug was able to kill the carrier of the virus then it also should be possible to use it as an antidote. Problem was: he would need a high-tech laboratory to prove this but the times of technology and research were gone. They were fighting for the daily survive now, for food and fresh water, for a warm place during cold winter nights …

Nevertheless, instinctively he had kept it secret that he had been able to salvage some boxes with Scat out of his destroyed lab. He hadn't used it, he hadn't traded it in. And for sure he was reluctant to give it to people like the Skinheads. Of course they didn't know about its effect on the alien and maybe the virus. But even if they were brutal, they weren't stupid. No all of them. Zeke hated the idea that they probably would try to analyze the composition of his Scat to get more of it. The possibility couldn't be excluded that they discovered the secret behind it in this process. And he didn't want to imagine what they would do with their knowledge.

xxx

Suddenly the vibe in the old factory-hall changed, Zeke could hear the voices growing louder, some of them angry, others almost … scared?

"Hey, who's that?"

"What the hell have you done?"

"Get her out here, she will infect all of us."

"Cut!"  
A stentorian voice drowned out all the others.  
“Steven. Come here.”

Something unexpected was going on in the hall, that was obvious. Zeke decided to risk a look through one of the large skylights. He used a nearby tree to climb onto the flat roof, then he sneaked carefully nearer to the opening, the glass long broken, so he had an unobstructed view into the hall.

For half of the part the hall was in the shadow, he could only discern three dark figures. But the center was sunlit. A brawny guy was standing there, the bald head covered with tattoos, despite it was not warm in the hall he was just wearing a dark waistcoat to his old denims. It was obvious that he was the one who called the shots, the others showed him a kind of defiant respect. Opposite him another guy, only a bit smaller, a large knife in his belt.

But it was the third person which took Zeke's breath away for a second. A woman, small, almost fragile. She wore a long dress, worn up but clean and patched, a bright scarf covered her hair. The guy squeezed her arm violently, for sure it did hurt. But she didn't show any sign of pain or fear, was just standing there straight up, didn't even try to avoid eye contact with the boss.

Zeke swallowed. No wonder that even the Skinheads felt anxious and disturbed by her. She was …

old … pretty old.

After recovering from his surprise he started to tremble with anger at the sight of the Skinhead-leader who slowly lifted his arm. She was just an old woman, no threat for them, there was no reason to act like this. When the flat hand hit her in the face Zeke cursed inwardly and climbed down from the roof. He had seen enough. Impossible to close his eyes and abandon her to her fate. Though he had promised Casey to hold back and not to risk too much. But non of them had expected a situation like this.

He pulled the gate open when he heard a second slap.  
“Hey, stop this!”

Even if he had taken them by surprise they reacted quick. Three guns and two knifes were aimed at him in an instant. Zeke forced himself to stay calm and lifted his arms into the air. Then he turned to the two guys in the middle of the hall, one of them still holding the woman. Her lip was cracked, Zeke noticed, but maybe she was the only one in the hall who still managed to keep cool. Strange, old wife … but he would think about this later.

“I don't want a fight,” he said.  
“Just … don't touch her again.”

The Skinhead eyed him cautiously.  
“ Usually no one tells me what to do.”

His voice was surprisingly calm but Zeke was smart enough not to overhear the threat behind his words. It was a risky game he was playing and at the first sign of weakness everything could be lost. For a short moment he searched for eye contact with the woman, hoped she would understand and play along.

“Usually ... no one touches what is mine!”

“My territory, my followers.”

“Not her!”  
Zeke pointed at the woman.  
“I found her on the road some weeks ago, sick ...”

The word 'sick' seemed to act as a deterrent, the guy who still hold her let her go and stepped away hastily. Even the leader moved back a step instinctively. Zeke smirked inwardly.

“Oh no,” he said, putting on a contrite look.  
“Not the Big Death, I'm not stupid. Just pretty famished and a few infected wounds, high fever.  
He shrugged.  
“But she's tougher than she looks like. I took her with me, now she's mine. Does the cooking, the washing … and at night she warms my bed.”

The guy still looked suspicious.  
“She's old!”

Zeke grinned.  
“I guess in times like these one can't be very picky.”

Finally the situation eased off, the leader gave him a pat on his shoulder and laughed loud.  
“I like you,” he said and beckoned his followers to take down the arms. They followed his words and withdraw to the end of the hall. One of them grabbed the arm of the woman and pulled her with him. Zeke wanted to protest, but the Skinhead stopped him.

“Just you and me, okay? They won't touch her again … not before I tell them.”  
He pointed at an area at the end of the hall, seperated with some old boxes, even a skinhead leader needed his privacy.  
“Sit. Coffee? Real one, from the old world.”

Zeke dropped down onto one of the lawn chairs and took off his backpack.  
“I have something better,” he said and put one of the Whiskey-bottles onto the wooden box which served as a makeshift table.

“Whoa!”  
Eagerly the leader grabbed for it, checked the cap intensively.  
“Cool stuff. Where did you get it?”

“Ah, I know how to take good care for myself,” Zeke answered evasively, opened the bottle and handed it over.  
“Be my guest.”

The guy couldn't resist, he had a gulp, smacked his lips, took another one. Finally he handed the bottle back. Zeke took only a sip of the Whiskey. Though he secretly regretted it, indeed it was good stuff, what a pity that he couldn't enjoy it together with Casey.

“What, you are a man or a wimp?”

Zeke looked back into the half amused, half derisive face of the skinhead-leader. He shrugged casually and put the whiskey-bottle back onto the box.  
“Just don't wanna wake up later and all my stuff is gone … together with you.”

“Oh!”  
The leader relaxed again and chuckled.  
“Careful guy, huh? You better are. So, what is all this about? You send her out to spy on us?”

Zeke looked over to the old woman, she was sitting on the floor near the other guys, looking surprisingly calm. In a way she did remind him on Casey. He shook off the thoughts.  
“Guess she followed me, I will have to talk with her later. But business first. I saw the Van and the Impala outside.”

The guy visibly stiffened, with narrowed eyes he stared at Zeke.  
“Our cars. You better don't try to touch them,” he snarled.

“Oh no, I know, this would be kinda stupid. Everyone would adamantly defend a good running car. I've an old GTO, found it in a small town in Ohio ages ago. Shitty car gave up the ghost some miles off. All I need are some spare parts.”

“Get it! But what can you offer me?”

When Zeke eyed at the Whiskey the guy shook his head.  
“Pretty bad deal,” he said smirking.  
“It's only half-full.”

Zeke chuckled and grabbed his backpack once again.  
“I have another one. That's a deal? I would add a pack tobacco for free.”

The Skinhead laughed loud.  
“You are a fox,” he said.  
“Interested in joining us? You would be welcome.”

“No, thanks, I prefer to be my own boss.“

“Too bad.”  
He pointed over to his men.  
“Tell them what you need, I guess I will help you out.”

+++

Finally they had left the muggy woods behinds. Zeke stopped and turned around to the woman who was following him without complaining.

“I'm sorry,” he said apologizing.  
“We can wind down a bit now, I guess, but it was necessary to bring some distance between us and them. Need a rest?”

“No, I'm fine,” she answered, her voice calm. She didn't even seemed to be out of breath.

“'kay!”  
He smiled at her and put his hand out.  
“Name is Zeke!”

She grabbed for it, her hand was warm and surprisingly strong.  
“Sister Hannah.”

“Oh!”  
For a moment Zeke cringed inwardly.  
“You are a nun!”

“This a problem for you?”

“Hm … no. Not as long as you don't start to talk shit about god and hell.”  
He knew it was harsh but he couldn't help it.

“I understand,” was all she said, still smiling, though Zeke was sure that she didn't. Of course it was stupid to live in a world like this and to believe in a almighty god who had let all this happen. But it was not this. He just couldn't stand it to be reminded on this weird guy who insisted that God was talking to him. Never he would forgive him what he had done to Casey with his muddleheaded prophecies.

“If it is okay for you, we should move on now. My ... friend is waiting for me and it's still a way to go. I would like to be back before it get's dark.”

He grabbed the backpack, pretty heavy now with the spare parts the skinheads had given him, more than he had expected to get. Obviously his risky game had been a good one. They had let him go, together with the old wife, without further complications. But Zeke had suspected that they maybe would try to follow them and had taken a long way round before finally return to the right way. Now all he wanted was to go back to Casey as quick as possible, he knew the boy would already be pretty jumpy.

“I can't come with you. I need to go home.”

Zeke blinked surprised and turned back to the nun.  
“You are living in this area,” he asked.

“About three days away by foot.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I've heard about the group of Skinheads. Like you I hoped to find some help by them.”

Zeke couldn't help the thought that this was fairly naive. Help from the skinheads? It was more likely that they would rough her up or worse, took all she owned, which was obviously not much more then her well-worn dress and some elixirs she had made by herself and abandon her to her fate.

She seemed to be able to read his mind and smiled.  
“It was not that much a risk. I'm old. Most people are afraid of me.”

Of course they were. The memories at the Big Death were still alive, people had lost their parents, grandparents, almost everyone older than twenty. To meet someone at Sister Hannah's age would scare most of them. And what people were able to do when they saw their life at risk he had seen often enough.

“Because of that you should be more careful,” Zeke said.  
“One day it could end badly for you.”

“Oh, we are. Usually we don't leave the area around the convent. The most we need we produce ourself. But the generator is broken down last week. To be honest, I felt uncomfortable at the thought to bring a stranger, one of the skinheads, into the school … but I wasn't able to repair it myself and we need it for the hospital ward.”

Zeke needed a moment to let all this information sink in. So she was not as alone as he had suspected. She was living in a convent, which made sense, because she was a nun and where, if not in a private place like a convent it would have been possible that older people survived the Big Death? But... a school? Schools were gone, like almost everything which had made up the life before the breakdown. No teacher, no students anymore, just people who learned what was necessary to survive by doing it. In a world without rules, without medical help. No hospitals anymore.

He started to wonder if she maybe was in a state of shock, if she had build up a fantasy world around herself. Inwardly he cursed. What a mess. When he was right and he left her behind she would be lost. But it was not an option to take her with him. It was just Casey and him. They were living on the road, following a mission he didn't even believe into. But this didn't matter as long as he was together with Casey. They could go on like this forever. An emotionally disturbed nun couldn't be a part of this life. Though deep inside he knew that Casey would say something different.

“I'm not disoriented,” she suddenly said as if she could read his mind.  
“I was living in the convent since I was sixteen. It was the only life I knew.

When the virus started to rage in the small village next to us we did our best to help. It took a while until it reached us. But then it only last a week. Everyone around me was dying. I buried them with my own hands. At the end I was all alone, the last human being which was still alive.”

She kept quiet for a moment, smiling apologizing.  
“I'm sorry, but this is also about _him_.”

Before Zeke could wonder who 'him' might be, she continued to talk.  
“I couldn't get it. I couldn't get why I wasn't affected by it. Why _He_ didn't let me die too. I stopped to pray. I cursed him. _He_ had been my life and now everything around me broke down, without any hope, and I was left behind.

Don't ask about the next days, weeks, I don't know, how I managed to survive. But then, it was a cold winter morning, Jenny knocked at the door. She was twelve, on the way to Indiana with her little brother, she told me that her grandparents were living there. But I could read in her eyes that she knew the truth, it was just a desperate try to keep the hope alive.

And suddenly I knew what I had to do. Maybe there is a reason for all this, but I still can't get it how _He_ could leave the children behind without any help. They deserve a chance. They are the future.

I asked them to stay. They were the first. In the moment there are forty-six people living in the convent, most of them children younger than six. They wouldn't survive out here. We offer them a refuge, a bed to sleep, three meals the day. We give them the chance to be children again, to play, to laugh, in a world where everything seems to be lost.

We teach them to love, to feel compassion and respect. The older ones learn all about math and science. We tell stories even to the youngest, stories about the old world.”

She smiled.  
“They are the future, but the past should never be forgotten.”

When she ended her story Zeke kept quiet for a moment, usually, Casey was the emotional one of them but this time, he felt somehow touched.

“Tell you what, we will go back together to Casey now, have some rest. Tomorrow I will repair the Chevrolet and then we can give you a ride to the convent. If you want I could have a look at the generator …”  
He chuckled slightly.  
“... just in case you will let me in. Actually I'm a stranger too.”

“I could already feel it when you stepped in the factory hall,” Sister Hannah said.  
“You are a good guy.”  


**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at my LJ 2015


End file.
